


How did it end up like this?

by mx-fawkes (SkippingCitrus)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Animism, Inanimate Objects, M/M, chompers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkippingCitrus/pseuds/mx-fawkes
Summary: Roadrat fic that’s half an exploration of an Animist Junkrat headcanon I have, half an idea I couldn’t shake.Hurt/Comfort ? Blood, but nothing violent.





	How did it end up like this?

Roadhog had noticed within a few weeks of their partnership that Junkrat had a weird attachment to the objects he built.

The first time he’d blown up his rip-tyre he’d been sulky until they got the chance to rebuilt it. He spent the time building trying to explain that his rip-tyres were all built around the same soul, but gave up when he realised Roadhog just wasn’t getting it.

When Junkrat finally got his tyre back he’d spent the day carrying it around, laying it on his chest as he slept and clutching at it like some kind of demented teddy bear. He’d once said the pressure helped him sleep, and Roadhog had to bite his tongue to avoid pointing out that he’d be much more comfortable to hold at night.

It was hard to believe he felt jealous over an inanimate object.

Four months after their partnership started found them spending the day in a makeshift structure, two half destroyed walls with a tarp thrown over the top offering some protection from the sun.

Junkrat was rambling in the background, but Roadhog was too focused on planning their route to pay him much attention. He was long used to Junkrat’s habit of talking at anything and everything, whether it could respond or not. He suspected that was why his silence didn’t bother Junkrat too much, he was already used to his chatter going unanswered.

He spoke to his tyre every now and again, usually telling it how well it had done after each kill. Roadhog didn’t mind that. The Beartrap on the other hand… The first time Junkrat had used it as a puppet he’d been about ready to hunt down an exorcist. The jokes were childish, but the how that voice came out of a human throat was beyond him. It sounded like a robotic voice synthesiser that had rusted to nearly nothing, and had been given a few strong kicks for good measure.

“Hoggy’s ignoring me.” Roadhog could hear the restrained laughter in Junkrat’s voice, sighing internally as he heard the now-familiar squeak of the beartrap being lifted. 

“Thaaat’s okay Junkrat,” It was like a rusty knife in his ears, making him wince. “You know he’s-” Okay, time to go clean the bike. Roadhog quickly abandoned the map to walk out, not noticing Junkrat’s disappointed gaze following him.

Roadhog had a good half hour cleaning and carefully tuning his bike, just long enough that he was starting to feel guilty when he heard Junkrat’s mismatched footsteps approaching.

“Oi, where’s the first aid kit?” Junkrat’s voice was flat, unpanicked, and Roadhog was turning to tell him to wait when he saw the damage. It made him cringe slightly, the lower half of Junkrat’s face coated in blood, dribbling down onto his neck.

He didn’t seem worried, tapping his foot in the dirt with his arms folded across his chest, gaze firmly fixed on the ground. Roadhog knows the pose, Junkrat uses it every time he’s done something reckless enough to get one or both of them hurt.

He grabbed the kit from the bike, gently pulling Junkrat down to sit in front of him. He took the pack of antiseptic wipes, wiping the blood away until he revealed a long row of inch-long cuts crossing his pointed nose and cheekbones, and a similar row stretching across his chin. “What did you do?”

Junkrat curled into himself, pulling his face away. “Nothing.” he snaps. “I can do this myself.”

Roadhog snorted, continuing to wipe. “Bullshit, it looks like you-” He paused, looking at the pattern of cuts again. He’s seen those marks before. “Did you get your face caught in that fucking beartrap of yours?”

A low groan came in response as Junkrat squirmed awkwardly, for a moment Roadhog thought he was going to run. “…S'called Chompers.”

Great.

Roadhog started thinking of the fastest route to somewhere with a decent hospital, there was no way Junkrat was going to avoid getting some kind of infection from this, but he could try and hold it off for now.

Junkrat grabbed his hand as he pulled out the biotic spay. “Save that! We might need it later.”

Roadhog rolled his eyes behind the mask, dropping it back in the bag. It’s unlikely they’ll ever use it unless it’s life or death, too rare in the outback to just use on something not instantly lethal. He gave the wounds a quick pat down before sticking on the gauze. “Why’d you get your face stuck in there?”

“Didn’t do it on purpose. Didn’t fully close anyway.”

Roadhog kept sticking on gauze, waiting to see if Junkrat offers anything more. They needed to restock as soon as they could, try and get a better stock.

“Guys don’t usually like me.” Junkrat mumbled. Roadhog’s eyebrow quirked, unsure where this was going.

“Most guys I was into growing up weren’t really into me, so I never really got much experience in that area.” One of his hands loosely curled around Roadhog’s wrist as he talked, fingers brushing over the bandages there. “And, we’ve got somethin’ going on, right? I’m not imagining it?”

He opened one eye, searching Roadhog’s mask like he’ll find answers there. Roadhog nodded slowly. Sure, he’d also wondered if the relationship was going to head in that direction, but this wasn’t how he expected either of them to admit it.

Junkrat’s smile in response was as soft and warm as the sunrise, and Roadhog couldn’t help but smile in return.

“So.” Junkrat continued, more confident now. "I figured I might as well get some practice in, Y'know? Don’t wanna disappoint ya.”

“With a beartrap.”

“Chompers.”

“With Chompers, the rusty beartrap.” Roadhog wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or cry, the whole situation too bizarre to deal with. Junkrat sat there, face half covered in gauze and bandages, smiling up at him like he’d given him the world.

“Seemed better than Ripper.” Junkrat shrugged. “But uh,” He laughed, “Maybe let’s pretend I didn’t, eh?”

Roadhog leant forward, lightly pressing his mouth against Junkrat’s through the mask. “Let’s get you to a doctor, I’ll kiss you properly when you won’t taste like anti-septic.”

Junkrat let out a cry of delight, wrapping his arms around Roadhog’s neck and pressing quick kisses to the mask as they gathered their things, Junkrat pressing one last kiss to Roadhog’s chest before they got on the bike. 

As they drove away he didn’t even realise he’d left the beartrap back in the hideout. Covered in blood and half buried in dirt, it was ready for some unsuspecting traveler to step on. It was a shame, he’d have to thank the next Chompers he built.


End file.
